


In The Woods Somewhere

by iamq



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: BAMF Natasha Romanov, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Friendship, Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hydra Peter Parker, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Whump, Precious Ned Leeds, Protective May Parker (Spider-Man), Protective Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2019-10-30 10:29:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17826920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamq/pseuds/iamq
Summary: Re-write of "The Rituals of You and Me".Tony Stark finds HYDRA's latest weapon in the cold Russian woods, half starved and frozen near to death.Tony Stark adopts HYDRA's latest weapon and takes him to the New York concrete jungle, makes him a home, and gives him a family.





	1. Red and Gold, Black and Blue

If Tony Stark knew that this mission would lead to him meeting a HYDRA soldier, he would’ve gone in all guns blazing. He would’ve shot first, and asked questions later, and refused to let anyone else come with him. Later he would’ve chalked it up to a victory, resigned himself to his laboratory for another few nights and days, and never thought about it again.

Instead, he was stood in the doorway of a small cell, looking at a trembling seventeen-year-old kid, chained down inside of a cage. The new HYDRA soldier, shivering in a cage as the cold Russian breeze soaked into the room.  
Tony could’ve laughed. This kid was a far cry from any of the other soldiers he’d seen, he was basically a scrap of meat stretched over bones, rattling like a bag of spare change. As Tony approached, he saw the boy scrabble back into the furthest corner.  
There’s no way this kid was made to defeat the Avengers. He looks like he’s struggling to breathe.

“Hey, stars-and-stripes, can you confirm there’s no one else here?”  
“Aside from corpses, place is empty. _Loads_ of guards though.”  
“Guards?” Tony watched as the boy pushed himself back again, “Where were they?”  
“All around that building you’re in currently. Did the lock come off without too much trouble?”  
“Yeah, yeah…” Protected by his suit, Tony stepped forwards, swallowing down his instinct to call the super soldier to come back him up. What could a boy dressed in blood-soaked rags, practically caked in dried blood and dirt, do against Iron Man?  
  
Cower, apparently.   
“Hey FRI, my wonderful gal, do we have any of those sedative darts left?”  
“Affirmative, Boss. There’s three of them in your right arm plate, want me to load them up?”  
“…Give me a second first. Get them ready though.”

“Hey kid,” Tony removed his faceplate and stepped to be beside the cage, taping the thick bars with his encased hand.  
The boy looked up at him, bright brown eyes wide and terrified in the darkness of the room.   
“You know any way to get these bars open, so I don’t have to bust my ass tearing them apart?”  
The boy shook his head almost unnoticeably. He dropped his eyes from Tony’s face and stared at the floor instead, curling his arms around his legs, trying to contain his shivers. Something deep in Tony’s chest panged, like he was watching a tiny, shivering puppy. He wondered if Pepper would be interested in a puppy.  
  
The boy looked up at him again, and Tony saw him open his mouth as though he was going to say something- which would’ve been a comfort to them both in honesty, the silence was wearing down on Tony’s nerves of steel and scaring him. Kids aren’t _quiet_ when they see Iron Man.

He watched as the kid struggled, and then opted to curl up in a smaller ball. He sighed.  
Pepper better want a puppy.

“Alright, c’mon then,” Tony wrapped his arms around two bars and forced them apart, grinding his teeth when the screeching noise of metal got past the noise blockers in his helmet. The boy had his hands wrapped over his ears, and he didn’t move when Tony extended a hand.  
“Kid, let's go. We haven’t got all day.”   
The boy rose up without Tony’s help, keeping his head down. He stepped through the gap in the bars and stood beside Tony, waiting.

“Ah… FRIDAY, what do I do?”  
“I’d suggest tying his hands, Boss. He won’t be able to escape if you do.”  
He nodded, and turned to see the boy was already gone. Before he had time to panic, he spotted him picking something up from the floor, and bringing it back over to Tony.

Wordlessly, he handed the pieces of metal to Tony, and then turned his back to him, wrapping his arms behind his spine.  
“Oh. Ooh.” He looked down at the piece of metal in his hands, realising it was form fitted to encapsulate the boy’s forearms and hands. Clever trick considering HYDRA’s usual inability to possess more than one braincell between all of their agents, but also terrible. He puts it on the boy for lack of anything better to use and feels him shiver under the metal. It must be freezing.

The key to the restraints is near the cage. Tony slots it into place and feels the kid tense up, but ignores it in favour of getting them both out of here. He looks down at the kid and takes in the state of him- thin clothes, matted and ratty curls, dirtied and bloodied, bare feet, and arms constrained behind him. He looks out at the winter landscape, ankle deep snow at the least and the beginnings of a snow storm in the making.

He steps outside to check the temperature, and the boy follows, stepping out into the snow without complaint.   
“It’s minus three degrees Celsius, Boss. Below freezing.”  
The boy behind him remains silent, shoulders hunched up. Tony focuses, and can see him trembling.   
“Ah, man. I’m not a monster.” Tony steps forwards, seeing the boy tense even more, even if it didn’t seem possible.  
He picks up boy, half cradling him, half restraining his legs, and starts carrying the deadweight towards the quinjet, through the heavy snow. As soon as they reach the doors, which open on command, Tony sets the boy down on the ramp, without thinking.   
“FRI, is our lovable American hero in there?” He prods, and she quickly checks her active cameras.  
“He sure is, Boss. I recommend you get your new ‘puppy’ into the quinjet soon. The cold is affecting his ability to thermoregulate, and his body temperature is dropping.”

“Gotcha, gotcha, gotcha, thank you FRI.”   
She doesn’t respond, but Tony knows she’s just monitoring the situation. The breeze outside of his suit is so strong that Tony can hear it, and he turns around to invite the kid in, and then pales.

The boy is gone.


	2. Y'know, From Youtube!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Midway upon the journey of our life  
> I found myself within a forest dark,  
> For the straightforward pathway had been lost."
> 
> \- Inferno: Canto I, Dante Alighieri

“What’s with the shriek?” Steve offers lightly as he steps into the loading dock of the jet, shivering in the cold.  
“I lost a whole teenager.” Tony looks at him desperately, emphasising the boy’s size with his hands.  
“…Well, at least it wasn’t a _partial_ teenager. Any reason why there was a teenager on a death mission to Russia? In the middle of,” He wraps his arms around his chest stiffly, “a snow storm…?”

Tony splutters for a second. He thinks his heart might leap out of his chest with worry.  
“We have to find him. He’s wearing, like, rags. Get a coat.”  
Steve grabs an emergency pack from the wall- _Thank God for Bruce Banner,_ Tony thinks- and follows him out into the snow, mouth set into a grim line that breaks the usual chiselled smile of his countenance.  
“He can’t have gotten too far in this cold. Can FRIDAY do a heat scan of the area?”  
Tony nods wordlessly, faceplate down and storming back into the snow, the safety and warmth of the quinjet behind him. FRIDAY turns up the heaters in his suit without being asked, and he spots a small flicker of warmth between the trees.  
“There!” He points, and the two soldiers begin their march through the snow. It’s halfway up their thighs and steadily growing, thick and sticking. The darkness of night has set in, and he lights up strips on his suit to help guide Steve in the remote wilderness.

It feels like hours that they search through the snow and trees, feels as though the sun should’ve risen and fallen at least twice, and Tony is growing hopeless. Steve soldiers on silently behind him, trained eyes scanning the treeline and the bright white snow.  
Tony’s heart is jumping in his throat, and FRIDAY gives him a gentle warning about his anxiety levels being dangerous, before Steve freezes.  
“Christ, Tones, you could’ve said something about the _blood_ ,” He murmurs, and brushes his hand over Tony’s shoulders, pointing at a figure in the distance. The boy is staggering against the wind and the snow, but he continues soldering on, the dark metal of his restraints reflecting the moonlight.

Tony raises his hand without thinking, and fires a sedative dart, hitting the boy directly in the throat.

He only just manages to catch the boy’s betrayed expression as he turns back, night vision goggles lighting up the forest in a way that lets him see every stumbling step the boy makes as he tries to flee from Tony and Steve, and every time his knees hit the floor as the sedative takes hold.  
When he finally hits the ground and stays down, both heroes let out a sigh they didn’t know they were holding.

They advanced quickly, and Steve grabbed the boy.  
“Tony, take this box, I’m going to run the kid back to the quinjet, you get back however you can.”  
He’s already lifting up the boy- who squirms weakly, like a sleepy kitten in his hold- when Tony finds the words to respond.  
“Run the kid back?”  
“He’s freezing. Look at him.”  
Tony does. The boy is still struggling in Steve’s arms but he looks uncoordinated in a way that doesn’t suit sedation, and his breathing is shallow even though he’s practically gasping. When he steps forwards, he can see that the boy is shivering still, and mumbling quietly- whether it’s to the adults or to himself, he can’t tell.

“Hypothermia.” He confirms.  
Steve is gone into the night before Tony can blink, headed in the direction of the quinjet. He picks up the box, activates his thrusters, and follows.

 

“Woah, woah, woah, kid, calm down,” He hears Steve’s voice before he sees him, clamouring onto the quinjet and having FRIDAY seal the door behind him, immediately activating the jet to get them home.  
Steve is struggling to get the boy onto a bed in the temporary medbay, the boy appearing to have a bit more fight in him than either of them guessed, even with his arms clamped down behind his back.   
“You know,” Steve huffs as he pushes the boy’s shoulders down onto the bed, “He reminds me of myself!”  
“Oh?” Tony sets the box down, holding onto the side of the bed as the jet lurches into flight, the cabinets rattling slightly.  
“Skinny, stupid, and weirdly ready to fight. Restrain his arms, will you?”

Tony grabbed the restraint bag from under the bed and started setting it up. It had been a joke when they first got it- the Avengers _never_ took prisoners, and who restrains corpses- but now he was thankful he’d read the instructions out of boredom.

He looped the leg restraint strap under the boy’s legs, and pulled it down to his ankles, tightening the straps around them. As soon as he felt the heavy weight, the boy stopped struggling with his legs, and instead moved his attention to trying to fight Steve off. Tony had to give him credit- this sedation wasn’t stopping the boy from trying his hardest, but he knew it would take a hold of him soon. The upper arm restraints came next, and the kid stopped fighting, blinking hard to stop himself from falling asleep. When Tony leaned over him with the torso straps, they made eye contact, and the boy rolled his head away, going limp.

“Jesus. Wriggled like a snake in a net.” Steve commented. Tony finished tying the restraints and looked up to the screen on the wall, activating it.  
“FRIDAY, what’s he looking like?”  
“Still really cold, Boss. I recommend unpacking the hypothermia essentials kit from the emergency pack.”  
Steve was on it before Tony could ask him, pulling out the heated insulation blanket and cracking two heat pads into activation. He puts the quickly heating gelpads onto the boy’s stomach and chest, and then wraps him up in the blanket, brushing his wet curls from his hair.

“Tones, where the hell d’ya get this one from? This was an intel recovery mission, not a rescue. Who even is this kid?”  
“No clue.” Tony answers honestly.  
“What?”  
They both glance over at the boy, who seems to be breathing deeply like he’s asleep, but could be faking if he wanted, and move out of the room.  
“There were rumours… in underground networks, rumours of a new HYDRA soldier or a project, a _weapon._ Some mutant had shown up on the streets and HYDRA snatched them up. I thought it was that … spiderkid, you know, from Youtube?”  
Steve furrows his brow.  
“Youtube?”  
“The video website. On the internet. But he stopped being sighted _ages_ ago, and Hell, I never got a name on him anyways. It was probably just someone fucking around with video editing.”  
Steve nods, agreeing without understanding most of what Tony has said.  
“You should look him up anyways. If they managed to get a mutant we’ve never seen before, who knows if they’ll chase down other mutants like that spiderkid?”  
“Exactly. Well,” Tony pulls up the projected flight path, “sounds like a busy day ahead for me. T-minus eight hours until we make it back to the compound, so… I’m taking a nap.”  
Steve laughs.  
“I’ll stay on baby monitor duty then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edit 19/02: added a few lines just to clear up how peter's restraints are still on him in this chapter


	3. Squeaky Clean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Now was I where was heard the reverberation  
>  Of water falling into the next round,  
>  Like to that humming which the beehives make,"
> 
> \- Inferno: Canto XVI, Dante Alighieri

AR-02 grimaced against the harsh lighting when he woke up. He usually woke up in darkness, unless he was in a laboratory for testing, so he pretended to be asleep still, keeping his body relaxed and limp as he listened to the movements around him.  
He figured those two people were gone- the man with the face that seemed _so_ familiar to him, even if he didn’t recognise him at all, and the man in the blue outfit. There was still a robotic hum all around him, but it wasn’t the harsh grinding of the plane before, more a soft thrum of idle electronics.

He was terrified. When he tried moving, he could feel that his arms and legs weren’t tied down anymore, so he sprung up, tense and coiled and ready to fight, backing himself into a corner.   
The room was, aside from himself, empty.

The corner still looked his safest option. One of the walls had a large, stretching window with a door next to it. The window was currently tinted black and obviously made so that AR-02 couldn’t see who was on the other side. He looked around at the room and saw the bed, another door, and nothing else. The white walls were empty too, and the room was… cold.

It must be a test from his new captors. Testing his obedience, or his skills, or his patience. He knew how HYDRA liked him- patient, waiting, tense like a snake about to strike, for hours on end.  He hopes his new captors like the same thing.  
Barely half an hour has passed before he hears muttering outside his door. Fear strikes up in his heart- what if he’s done something wrong? He might’ve failed this test already, and he needs to prove that he can be good or they’ll hurt… he’s not sure. They’ll hurt him, maybe, or someone he loves, people he loves- names are on the tip of his tongue but they aren’t coming to him now.

When the door opens, AR-02 recedes into his corner. He tries so hard to be brave, and show these new captors that he doesn’t need to be trained anymore, but he fails. He’s so scared, and so cold, and he’s still bruised and sore from when he got in trouble a few days ago, and the noises are too loud after so long in solitary confinement, and he doesn’t know what they want, or how to make them happy, and no one will tell him.   
The smell of dried blood and dirt from his clothes hits his nose when he shifts his posture, and he tries not to throw up. He wants to scrub every inch of his skin clean until it’s red raw and blistering, and he wants the restraints on his arms off. They dig into his skin and his muscles ache and burn, but he must deserve it.

He doesn’t look up at the door when he hears someone step through, still thinking about what he could’ve done. He traces back the last time he was awake- the freezing cold, running from the stranger, falling and falling over again and- he pinpoints it. When the blue man held him down, he fought back. That’s why they’re restraining him now. No fighting back.

“Do you speak Russian? English? German, Dutch, French…?”   
AR-02 doesn’t look up. He’s not supposed to speak, and he knows that. It doesn’t matter what language he understands if no one speaks to him.   
“Alright, well, let’s hope you understand gestures if anything.” The person in front of him steps forwards, and crouches down in front of him.

“Kid. Look up.”   
That’s an order. AR-02 follows it, raising his chin but keeping his eyes down. He’s obedient, and submissive, and he knows that’s what HYDRA wanted.   
“So, you _do_ understand me,” He says, and AR-02 tenses minutely. The man expected him to reply, how could he have been so stupid as to ignore him, and now he’s going to be punished for his insolence.

“Well, if you understand me, you’ll understand ‘shower’, right? If you stay dirty, you’ll get an infection in all your scrapes so stand up and let me take those cuffs off you.”  
This stream of information confuses AR-02 for a moment. It’s too much, and he doesn’t understand half of it, and his mind is still at war with itself because this voice is _so_ familiar, and something about it makes him want to trust him. He’s taking too long to obey and so he scrambles to his feet, desperate to prove himself.  
The hands that turn him around are calloused, and strong.   
AR-02 doesn’t like the idea of such hardened hands, little stains of black oil and pen markings over his skin, but he can’t stop it. He expects to be pushed into a wall, or slapped, or kicked, but instead the man just pulls his arms out straighter, and fiddles with the metal clasps.

With a crack, after a few seconds of painful jostling, the metal snaps open. AR-02’s arms fall down limp to his sides, stinging as the blood rushes back into them.

“Thank you.” He says, and then falls back into silence.  
“Baby’s first words!” The man jokes, but AR-02 doesn’t think it was a joke to mock him. He doesn’t want to presume though, and just stays quiet, rolling his shoulders just to ease the blood flow.  
The hands guide him towards the second door, far away from the window. He can imagine a multitude of things behind it, terrible things that scare him, but he does not imagine a small open shower, a toilet, a sink, and a set of clothes. Confused, he glances at the man, who is already backing out of the door.

“Bruce- he’s a doctor- says to take your time. It might be hard to remember normal things like showering, depending on how long HYDRA confined you for.”  
AR-02 blinks at him. He looks back at the shower.  
“The red bottles are for your hair, the blue bottles are for your body. Go wild, kid.”  
The man leaves before AR-02 can thank him again.   
  
Gingerly, he steps forwards into the shower, twisting the handle. Cold, clean water falls down onto his hand, and he flinches back before realising it’s _safe._ It is clean, and no one is forcing him under it, and when he turns back to the door, he finds out he can lock it.

AR-02 strips the stained shirt and pants quickly, and steps under the cold stream. It makes him shiver but he won’t pass up the opportunity anytime soon,   
“Mister Stark would like to inform you that you can turn up the shower’s water temperature, if desired. Would you like me to adjust it for you?” A voice speaks from the emptiness.  
AR-02 freezes, and turns around, looking for someone, but finding the room empty.  
“I am not watching you shower,” the voice comments, “So you’ll have to communicate verbally with me. You recently suffered from onset hypothermia, and I would recommend a much warmer temperature.”  
“Who… are you?” AR-02 whispers, voice scratchy and quiet from misuse.  
“I am FRIDAY, Mister Stark’s personal AI. I monitor all of the infrastructures that he owns, and am always present to hand. For regards to your privacy, I have turned off the cameras in this room,” AR-02’s face flushes red at the thought of it, “but I do monitor your body temperature and what you’re doing.”  
“Is it okay… to talk to you?”  
“Of course.”

AR-02 considers it. The name _Stark_ makes him hurt with some longing, some pained awareness of a lost feeling that aches to fill an empty space he wasn’t aware he had.  
“Can… you turn it up? Not- not too much, I don’t want to get in trouble.”  
“You won’t be in trouble. I promise.”  
AR-02 blinks again, long and owlish. The water pouring down on him gets hotter, and as the water gathers, brown and red on the white floors before disappearing into the drain, AR-02’s worry disappears momentarily with it. He cautiously uses the bottles of liquid- _shampoo, conditioner, shower gel_ \- to scrub his skin clean, and untangle his curly hair. When he turns off the shower, the cold in the room shocks him, but he wraps himself in a towel from the rack next to the sink, warmed by the radiator. It feels like a comfort he can barely remember.

“The clothes on the side are for you,” FRIDAY comments. “Mister Stark recommends that you get dressed quickly, because Bruce wants to talk to you.”  
“Bruce?” AR-02 asks, scrubbing his hair dry and dressing quickly, pulling on the thick, warm sweatpants and jumper.   
“He’s a doctor,” The lilting voice continues, “specialising in mutant care. Mister Stark mentioned him earlier.”  
“A… doctor? For _mutants_?” AR-02 asks, swallowing hard. Doctors aren’t as bad as scientists, but they both poke, and prod, and touch AR-02 like he’s an experiment, or meat. He doesn’t think about the word mutant. At least she didn’t say _freak_.  
“Yes. He’s also a scientist and has many respectable qualifications. You’ll be safe with him.”  
“Oh, _great_.” AR-02 deadpans.

 

 


	4. Doctor Who

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "O Sun, that healest all distempered vision,  
> Thou dost content me so, when thou resolvest,  
> That doubting pleases me no less than knowing!"
> 
> \- Inferno: Canto XI, Dante Alighieri

“Anthony Edward Stark, you better tell me exactly why you have a budding HYDRA soldier locked up in our medical unit or so help me God-“  
“Happy birthday?” He tried.  
Pepper was stood at the door to his laboratory, blinking down at him.  
“It’s… not even my birthday, where did you even get this kid from?”  
Tony hovered above the chunks of metal he was working on before, puts down the screwdriver he was using to dismantle their joints, and straightens up.  
“Imported from Russia. Only the best for my lovely, lovely Miss Potts.”  
She glared at him.  
“You _stole_ a child from _HYDRA._ You went to _Russia!_ ”  
Tony faked looking wounded.  
“And here I thought you’d like him. You haven’t seen those big brown puppy eyes?” He frowned, and she shook her head, sighing audibly.  
“I haven’t seen him, Tony, Bruce has his entire ward on lockdown. Apparently, he’s been talking to FRIDAY for a bit.”  
“FRIDAY? You traitor!” Tony aimed up at the ceiling, and heard the crackle of his in lab speaker system start up- FRIDAY was annoying him on purpose.  
“Sorry Boss,” She commented, “But you did tell me to look after him.”  
“And spill all my industries’ secrets to him, I bet?”  
“No. He hasn’t asked me anything about you.” Pepper laughs at that, and Tony chuffs woundedly, shaking his head as he stands up, making his way towards Pepper for an apologetic kiss.  
“What has he asked about?” She queried the AI, and FRIDAY took a moment to respond.  
“He has asked me who Bruce Banner is but accepted the answer of “a doctor”. That is the only thing of significance. He seems nervous.”  
Tony took Pepper’s hand and pulled her out of the lab, grabbing a warm hoodie on his way out. Winter had arrived over NYC quickly, and just the sight of the cold outdoors, a thick blanket of snow over the busy city, through the ice frosted windows was enough to make Tony feel chilly.  
“Just… come and see him. He’s- he’s got to be important, considering how HYDRA had him on the lockdown notice.”  
“Tony…” Pepper warned.  
“And hey, nothing like adoption!”  
Pepper deadpanned again, pushing one lock of loose hair behind her ear as she adjusted her fringe in the mirror, brushing it out of her eyes.  
“A puppy is for life, Tony, not just for Christmas.”

 

AR-02 roused himself from his nap when he heard footsteps outside. He’d curled up in the corner this time, feeling much safer when his back was at two walls, folded in on himself.  
“Looks like he just woke up,” A voice said from behind the door, and AR-02 strained to hear it.  
“There’s no time like the present,” Another voice said. AR-02 recognised it as the Stark man, and felt curiosity spike in him. If Mr Stark had been kind enough to let AR-02 clean himself, and sleep, there had to be some sort of experiment now that would set the price for it.

The door opened, and AR-02 kept his gaze focused on the floor. Doctors were easier than scientists in one way- they were predictable. They weren’t interested in scaring AR-02, or intimidating him, especially not if he was quiet.  
“Hey there,” This doctor said, crouching down in front of him. The other man- _Stark_ \- lingered at the door to the room, shutting it behind him. A guard.

 “I’m Bruce, Bruce Banner,” Something strained at AR-02’s memory, a set of printed pictures against the wall of a classroom, someone muttering a name and then- he blinked back into the present.  
“What’s your name?” The doctor asked.   
AR-02 pauses to think it over. Mister Stark expects him to speak whenever he’s asked a direct question, but he doesn’t know if Doctor Banner expects the same. Everyone at HYDRA preferred silence, so he stays quiet.  
Instead of answering, he pulls down the hem of his sweater, revealing the pale brand over his collarbone, ‘AR-02’.

“AR-02.” The doctor repeats, and AR-02 nods on reflex, sharp and controlled.  
“What does that stand for?” Bruce asks, and the boy under his watch shifts uncomfortably, glancing up at the doctor. He looks genuinely curious, and kind, and his hands hover over AR-02, not touching, just waiting.

“Arachnid number two,” He answers quietly, hunching back over, afraid of having misread the situation.  
“Now that’s interesting.”  
Mister Banner moves, and AR-02 jolts backwards, hitting the wall. He hadn’t recognised how much he’d leaned forwards, coaxed by the doctor’s soft words and low voice. The man across from him slowly sits down in front of him, and leans back, relaxed and open. Mister Stark, by the door, smiles at the sight and then motions to the glass window. AR-02 figures someone must be watching this.

A test.

“Could you tell me what they did to you at HYDRA? Experiments?”  
AR-02 flinches at the mention of the word. He curls up some more.  
“Tolerance,” he hurls out more viciously than he expected, and hugs himself tighter. He remembers those tests- how long he can suffer without eating, how long he can cling to a wall with the threat of broken glass under him, how long he can last running around the room with a taser at his heels.  
“Anything else?”  
He remembers interrogations. Them testing drugs on him, finding out what paralyses him and what sedates him, and what causes him unbearable agony. The more he thinks about it, the more his mind hurts, as though a thick fog of drugs has lifted from him and his mind is clear to search for memories that have disappeared in the darkness of that cold cell.

“Hurt.” AR-02 offers up, shrugging his shoulders lightly. He knows he can say more- his vocabulary is, at least in his mind, wide enough that he could make it his job to think, and talk; it’s only the paralysing fear of being beaten for speaking out of turn that keeps him silent.  
“That sure sounds like HYDRA. We aren’t going to hurt you here. Do you have a real name? I’m Bruce, this is Tony, and you are…?” He asks, and AR-02 feels terrible to disappoint him.

“I don’t…” He glances up at the doctor, and meets his eyes, unable to look away, desperate for this man to understand the pain he’s encountered without being able to verbalise it.  
“You don’t?”  
“I don’t _remember_.”

“You don’t remember… anything? Anything at all?”  
AR-02’s throat is dry, and his mind is racing. As he thinks back to it, he doesn’t- he can’t think of any time that he hasn’t been in that cell, or in a laboratory, or seen anything except the bleak Russian snow and dry sunlight. He looks up at Bruce, terrified.  
“I don’t- I don’t remember anything, I know I should, there are people out there, I was- I was _protecting_ them,” AR-02 pleads with him, staring down at his hands, “I know I was protecting them, I recognise Mister Stark but I don’t- I don’t understand how, I’ve never seen anyone before, I don’t-“  
A hand lands on his shoulder, and he flinches, staring up into the face of Mister Stark. Another person has entered- a woman with ginger hair in a ponytail, who stares at him with an unwavering gaze.

Mister Stark crouches down in front of him, joining Doctor Banner on the floor.  
“It’s okay. How about you let Bruce take some samples of your skin, hair, that kind of stuff, and we’ll find your family?”  
“Find them?” AR-02 asks.  
“Track them down. Contact them. Take you home.”  
AR-02 smiled.


	5. Blood/Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Now were we from the forest so remote,  
>  I could not have discovered where it was,  
>  Even if backward I had turned myself,"
> 
> \- Inferno: Canto XV, Dante Alighieri

      The tests had gone surprisingly easily. Although Tony could see the boy’s hands shaking when Bruce brought out the needle to take blood, he said nothing about his fear. It took a few minutes of explaining the process to get him to relax when Bruce approached him with a swab, but aside from that he was relaxed, and polite.   
“Well, whoever raised you did a good job of it,” Bruce commented, leaning back in his chair. AR-02 looked up curiously.  
“He’s just being an old man, ignore him.” Tony chided, gently whacking Bruce’s shoulder in an attempt to lighten the mood. AR-02 watched this, his brown eyes wide in confusion as Bruce didn’t flinch, or make any notion of it hurting, only chuckled to himself and began to clear away the samples kits, humming as he went around the room.

“Well, I’ll give these to FRIDAY,” he commented idly, making his way out the room, “You guys can maybe work on memory recall?”   
“Memory recall?” Tony questioned, “Bruce, memory recall? What’s memory recall? Bruce-“  
The doctor had already left.

AR-02 looked expectantly at Tony, who already felt his willpower vanishing. He had never really been good with kids, other than a few smart comments and life warnings, it was more of a “try not to traumatise them” scenario where he was concerned.  
“So. Let’s think. Do you recognise me? I’m kind of famous. A little. I won’t be insulted if you don’t. Maybe a little bit insulted, but I’ll forgive you, on account of the whole memory wipe HYDRA torture stuff.”  
AR-02 blinked at him, and Tony hated that name. He could see the boy struggling, face crumbling ever so slightly as he tried to force his mind to connect a face and a name.  
“I know your name, Tony Stark,” he said, as though talking would jog his thoughts into working for him, “and I recognise… your face, but I don’t know where from. I’ve just seen it before.”  
“Well, that means you’ve had a life outside of HYDRA. Or… did they show you pictures of us?”  
AR-02 shakes his head methodically. He looks downtrodden to have disappointed Tony without an answer.  
“What about your name, is there anything that jumps at you if you think of a name?”  
The teenager gives him a haunted look.  
“Benjamin, I guess. But it’s like there’s a disconnect- it’s not my name. Or maybe it is. I don’t know.”  
He resumes staring at his hands as Tony thinks it over. He knows FRIDAY will be done categorising the boy’s DNA by now, and searching through a database of basically every person in the world that she can. He hopes that they’ll find AR-02’s people- but then he pauses in a shamed way. Tony has only know him for a day or so, but he’s already attached to the boy, the same way he falls in love with broken robots and scraps of metal. There’s potential in him, and Tony thinks, with the right suit, he could be better than most of them.

“Benjamin, huh. That’s a nice name.” Tony swallows hard.  
“You know, AR- kid, you know that-“   
“That there might not be anyone? That you hyped up this big reunion thing and now you’re worried, ‘cus there might not actually be anyone out there for me?” AR-02 says. Tony stares in disbelief, mouth dry as dust.  
“Yeah, you could word it like that, if you wanted.” He manages.  
“Of course… I know that. I’ve known this whole time, that there’s a chance that whoever I was doing all this for was dead, or just a figment of my imagination. But it doesn’t matter, does it?” Tony can only watch as AR-02 clenches his fists in his lap, and shakes his head, “It doesn’t matter, because no matter who’s out there or who isn’t, I’m here. And… and if I’ve got no one out there, then I’ve never had anyone out there, and hell, I did _fine_ when I was with HYDRA and I didn’t have anyone except my damn self!”  
Tony didn’t expect such an outburst from the kid, but he can see him trembling now as the gravity of the situation hits him, his voice cracking as he rubs away tears.  
“I didn’t even- I was terrified of all of this! I was confused when you gave me clothes because I’m so used to being treated like a fucking animal and-“ He turns his face to Tony now, tears streaking down his flushed cheeks, “what if that’s _always_ been me? What if my people gave me away to them, they wanted this, or what if, what if now I’m so broken that they don’t want me anymore? What if they just want a normal kid, and not the fucked up mess that I am? I don’t-“

He curls in on himself and weeps. Tony feels a yank on his heart strings and steps forwards, wondering if this is how he seemed to Rhodey all those years ago, or Pepper whenever she caught him working himself to death in his lab. He rests a hand on the shoulder of the boy, who flinches- he might’ve found his voice, but it’ll take longer than a day of relative safety to erase what could be years of torment-  and then relaxes into the steady hold.

“Kid,” He says, shattering the silence. He wishes he had a name to place to him.   
The boy under him sniffles quietly, face hidden in his hands, but doesn’t respond.  
“Can I hug you?” Tony asks.  
“ _Please_ ,” the kid wails.  
Tony rocks him back and forth in his arms. He’s not sure where he’s learnt the gesture- Bruce would say it’s ingrained in him like a nature that every human knows, comforting a distressed child who needs affection, and contact, but he thinks FRIDAY would tell him that he’s getting soft for the newcomer. Either way, after a few minutes, the boy stops his quiet, soft sobs, and straightens up, tense.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out robotically, “I shouldn’t have-“  
“Hey, hey,” Tony soothes. He can practically feel the pull to walk away from this, leave AR-02 alone and let him self soothe, but he ignores it.  
The boy sucks in a lungful of air like a drowned man and wipes his cheeks.  
“You don’t- it’s okay to cry. I’ve cuddled Captain America whilst he was crying once, it’s super fine. Normal, even. I cry a lot. Cry _all_ the time when I see those sad adverts, or when I think about my childhood. It’s really a fifty-fifty on when I’ll cry or-“

“Boss?” FRIDAY interrupts. He throws the ceiling a distasteful glare, mad at her for interrupting what was clearly an important life lesson for his amnesiac protégé.

“What’s up galpal?” He feels AR-02 peel himself away from the warmth of their hug, and he almost mourns it.  
“I have a match for the boy.”

 


	6. Sunflower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "But yestermorn I turned my back upon it;  
> This one appeared to me, returning thither,  
> And homeward leadeth me along this road."
> 
> \- Inferno: Canto XV, Dante Alighieri

“Well, jeeze, FRIDAY, don’t leave us hanging.” Tony rubs his arm uncomfortably. The boy next to him looks up at the ceiling nervously, waiting for FRIDAY to speak again.  
“AR-02 is actually a sixteen year old boy named Peter Benjamin Parker. He resides in Queens, with his aunt May Parker. He attends Midtown Tech High School and is part of the Academic Decathlon, Band, and Chess teams. He was reported missing to the NYPD approximately four months ago.”

Tony blinked, and stared at the boy- _Peter_ , he now knew. Peter stared back at him.  
“If it interests you, I have also found a match for the young vigilante who you were concerned for-“ Tony shakes his head, and she falls silent.

“Peter Benjamin Parker,” Peter repeats to himself.  
“Kid, one out of three ain’t bad.” Tony chokes out, and Peter throws him a weary smile, fiddling with the grey sweater he wore.

They sat in silence for a while, and Peter stood up, walking over to the reflective screen in the wall, staring at himself in the glass.  
“Peter Parker. Peter Benjamin Parker. Peter. Mister Parker. _Peter_.” He chants like a mantra, desperation lacing his voice as he runs a hand through his curls, looking himself over and over.   
“…Peter?” Tony asks, tentatively. The teenager takes a moment to turn around, as if he needs to consciously reminder himself that Peter is _him_.  
“I… I still don’t remember anything,” Peter rubbed his shoulder self-consciously, eyes darting around the room as he looked for exits, any way out of the uncomfortable situation where he couldn’t please someone in seconds.

“Well, there’s one thing I know to cure that,” Tony stands, offering up his hand to the teenager, who takes it without question, and allows himself to be pulled along and out of the room.   
“What- I don’t-“ Peter’s worries are washed away as Tony grabs one of his jackets from the counter top, slinging it over Peter’s shoulders.  
“It’s a shame about the shoes,” Tony commented, choosing to lead the two of them down the stairs instead of taking the elevator, keeping up a brisk job. His heart hurts at the thought of it, having idealised a life with this Peter Parker, opening up his heart only to let it be hurt again. It was almost funny how quickly he’d considered bringing this boy into his family, adopting him, taking him to school- he shook his head as if it could clear away the thoughts.  
“I’ll buy you some sneakers, or something, with my face on them.” He pressed his hand against the boy’s shoulder-blades to ease him forwards, stepping into his private car park, tens of shiny, practically untouched cars looking back at them both.  
“No offence, sir,” Peter looks at him quizzically, “but why would there be shoes with your face on them?”

Tony balks, and Peter flinches, but it isn’t long before the quiet smile that Tony was trying to ignore managed to spread onto his face. The kid really doesn’t have any memories.  
“You know how long it’s been since I’ve met someone who didn’t recognise me?” He asks the shocked teen, rubbing his shoulders.   
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know I-“   
“Kid, you have done _nothing_ wrong. Now, wanna go see your aunt?” Tony smiled broadly at the kid.  
Peter nodded.

 

The car ride was _definitely_ fun.   
Top down, shiny and clean, Peter looked almost as happy as a newborn baby being presented with something that rattled. The ride would normally be shorter, but today Tony decided to show the kid the sights- and not just because he was too afraid to let the kid go. Not because he was clinging onto Peter for as long as he could hold onto him, chasing a fatherhood he couldn’t keep. Definitely not.

He just enjoyed watching the kid laugh, looking more normal than he’d seen him. Everything was moving so fast- in both the car, and the kid’s life. He knew that the “fall” would come soon, the crash after the euphoria of getting his family back, and he knew he had to get Peter somewhere safe before that happened.

But for now, he figured it wouldn’t hurt him to enjoy his life a little bit. Relax, enjoy a wild car ride down one of Tony’s private roads and get to pretend he’s a normal teenager for a while. Tony remembers pretending he was a normal teenager sometimes- he and Rhodey putting on sunglasses, dark clothes, hiding in the corners of parties and drinking from red solo cups and going unnoticed. Those quiet moments meant the world to him when he was a teenager, and he hopes he can do the same for Peter now.

“You know, kid,” he yells over the roaring wind, watching the boy turn to him and smile, “If you ever need anything, just call me, yeah?”  
“I don’t have your number!” Peter yells back, laughing into the wind. Tony turns the car onto automatic driving, pulls out a piece of paper from a notepad in his driver side door, and scribbles down his private number. He puts down Happy’s number too, just in case.

Handing it to the kid makes him feel… _safer_. He’s Iron Man. The kid might not know it but he can swoop in any time, rescue the kid, bring him back to his big tower like Mother Gothel, _protect_ him. Tony admits he does feel slightly like a protective lioness unwilling to leave her cub, dragging him around by his scruff.

Peter smiles at him, and Tony pulls into the city block, driving much slower and mores respectfully as they enter populated streets. He re-roofs the car- Peter gives him another odd look, and then shrugs to himself, seemingly not bothered- and makes sure to drive exactly on the speed limit, milking the last few precious minutes they have. He even turns on manual driving again, because he wants to be _there_. He wants to remember jostling the gearstick and fumbling with the wheel and parking outside of the red-brick apartment building.

Tony lets Peter out of the car personally, glad that no reporters have found out that he’s even so much as left the Tower. He spots a few flower bundles and letters around the entrance to the apartment building, Peter still staring up at the door with a look of contained trepidation.   
One of the bouquets has an easily readable note. Tony can’t help but look.

**“BRING PETER HOME.”**

The phrase burns into Tony’s eyelids. The world feels like it tilts on it’s axis for a moment, leaving the scientist a second behind, unsteady on his feet. All of these flowers, all of these notes, the small cards and letters and even singular sunflowers are all for the teenager who stands in front of him, completely oblivious to the outpouring of love that sits in front of him. A whole community, a whole city mourning one lost boy.

“Come on, Peter. I bet she misses you.”


	7. Purgatory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Returns in doors, and up and down laments,  
>  Like a poor wretch, who knows not what to do;  
>  Then he returns and hope revives again,"
> 
> \- Inferno: Canto XXIV, Dante Alighieri

The interior is normal, as apartment buildings go. Tony uses the override controls he has on his watch to break past the apartment door locks and makes his way inside, holding open the doors for Peter, who is looking around curiously. His face is scrunched like tissue paper as he looks at every inch of the building, the grey walls illuminated by the now setting sun, the welcome mat against the door, the broken elevator and the winding set of stairs.   
Both of them spot the apartment building names, but Peter doesn’t even step closer before he speaks aloud.  
“We’re… up in 7A.” He blinks to himself, looks down at his hands again as if he’s awoken in this new body, and then shakes his head sadly, “I don’t know… anything else. I just remembered.”  
Tony gives him an approving smile, pulls him in for a hug and ruffles the hair on his head.  
“No one expects you to get it all straight away.”  
Peter looks saddened. They take the stairs up- and Tony wonders about sending an anonymous donation to the apartment building’s management team to get the elevator fixed because he thinks Peter is plenty skinny enough to be allowed to miss that daily regime. When they get to the third corner, Peter stops and trembles for a moment, looking like he’s fighting with his own head.  
“What’s wrong?” Tony prompts. He isn’t used to being the caring one in a relationship.  
“It’s just- when I was with HYDRA they- they tried to t-test my stamina? Make me walk on a treadmill or on this staircase thing they had… for hours… I shouldn’t be scared anymore but I keep thinking that… that this is all a trick.”

Tony meets his eyes, brown on brown, and he catches them for a second before Peter drops his gaze down to the floor, one tear rolling down his cheek as his situation hit him.   
“I know… when something terrible like this happens, it’s easy to relive it, and keep reliving it. And in a way that’s…” Tony struggles for a word, “ _okay._ Because you were… tortured, and kidnapped, and they took your memories. Which is, in my opinion, terrifying.”   
He takes advantage of the way Peter has relaxed when Tony begun to speak, and takes his hand to keep leading him up the stairs.  
“I’d be scared too. I know a- well, I’ve always been scared of things like that. I was kidnapped in Afghan, once. They tortured me there. And I think about it, sure, but I talk to people about it too. Got myself a really good therapist and everything. The whole works.”  
“Does it stop the nightmares?” Peter asks. He looks hollowed out behind his eyes, like the emptiness threatening to overwhelm him has forced him underwater for a moment, struggling to break surface tension.   
“Yeah. They get less, and less, and eventually you forget having them at all. And the days will get easier, too. You can get past this, Peter. You can grow.”

The teenager smiles wearily at him, before turning into the hallway.   
“Muscle memory,” He states, standing in front of the door labelled 7A, hand tracing over the silver plate numbers. His hand ghosts down over his sweatpants where Tony assumes he would’ve kept his keys before- but Peter just glances down at his empty palm after his fingers have touched the soft cotton, confused at his own actions. He lowers his hand back down.  
Both of them look around the hallway, cast in a soft orange glow. The floor is white tiled and the walls are yellow, and the door is brown, and the sky is purple.   
Peter swallows nervously.

“I can’t do it. What if she doesn’t… want me? What if she hates me?”   
Tony looks down at the floor outside of the apartment building. Around the welcome mat- old, with the word “WELCOME” worn away, where Tony can imagine Peter has come home multiple times over the years- are scattered flowers, more cards.

“I think everyone misses you, kid. Want me to knock for you?”  
Peter gives him a relieved smile and steps behind Tony, as the superhero raises his hand to the door and knocks sharply.  
He hears footsteps inside, and then the door unlocks, opening slowly.

“Look, thank you so much for your concern but really, I’m sure there’s nothing you can-“   
Tony meets the eyes of a short woman, maybe in her late thirties, long brown hair down her back and circle-rimmed glasses over her nose. She wrings her hands in a tea towel, striped black-and-white sleeves rolled up her arms.  
Her expression hardens, only the slightest, but Tony is used to reading small expressions. He knows she’s angry, whether at the world, or at her circumstances, or at the fact that the billionaire stood in front of her is knocking on a late winter’s day, the sun hanging low in the horizon.

“What is it?” She asks defensively, crossing her arms over the waistband of her above-the-hip black jeans, staring him down.   
“Miss-“  
“Look, if this is some charity thing, some search party, some anything, just tell me straight out. I’m sick of… of thinking I have him back home, and then just finding out I _don’t._ Finding out that my baby boy, my _kid_ is still out there, hurt or scared or dead, even and I can’t ever know if he’s okay-“  
Tony raises his hand up slightly. He can see, in the low light of the corridor, the tears gathering in May’s eyes as she vents, the exhaustion running through each line in her body like she’s a wire strung up too tight on a guitar, a string that cuts fingertips when plucked. He can feel Peter’s presence behind him, cowering in the man’s shadow, afraid of the uncertainty of what is to come, and what has been, and what is.

There is nothing he can say. Words lay dormant at the back of his throat as he sees the picture of pure grief encapsulated on May Parker’s face, stress lines sunken in where smile lines carve through her skin like a shadow of a time she can’t cling onto anymore. He doesn’t need to say anything as she steps back into the apartment, opening her mouth to bid him a goodbye, and Peter takes his shoulder, his grip firmer than Tony has ever felt it, more strong and confident than he ever thought the boy could be, and he moves the man aside.

“Aunt May?” He asks, tentatively, nervously, his mouth stumbling over words that sound familiar in his tone.

“ _Peter_ ,” She breathes.

 

 


	8. Five, Four, Three, Two, One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Ill giving and ill keeping the fair world  
> Have ta'en from them, and placed them in this scuffle;  
> Whate'er it be, no words adorn I for it."
> 
> \- Inferno: Canto VII, Dante Alighieri

“Peter,” She repeats.  
“Aunt May,” He replies, tentatively, as if he’s unsure if that’s what the old Peter would’ve said. Peter doesn’t even look back at Tony as he moves closer to the woman, his face a picture of nervous disbelief.  
“oh, Peter, Peter,” May repeats, opening her arms and drawing him into her chest, squeezing him so tightly to her it’s like she can protect him from the world, keep him in her grasp forever, shield him. It takes Tony a moment to notice that she’s crying into the teenager’s hair, cradling him against her before she remembers the other presence in the hallway.

“Mister Stark,” she murmurs breathlessly, not releasing her grip on Peter as if he’ll be snatched away again, “You should… come inside.”  
She pulls Peter gently into the apartment. He wonders if the kid will be allowed out anytime soon, based on the way May is trembling he thinks not.

“You… two can talk. I’ll make a drink.” Peter offers.  
Tony glances at him questioningly.  
“I remember how to make a hot drink, Mister Stark.” He chides and disappears around one of the corners into where the kitchen must be. May walks into the more living room designated space of the open plan apartment, and Tony follows, appreciating the space. On the coffee table there are piles of letters, and an open laptop, and a cellphone plugged into an outlet, charging.  
“I’m sorry for the mess,” May apologises, smiling hastily at Tony as she glances over at Peter in the kitchen, who’s filling up the teapot with warm water. He doesn’t even seem to be paying attention to the two adults, so Tony relaxes minutely. This is a hard news to deliver.

She sits down, and he joins her. There’s a small silence for a minute as Tony looks around, the missing posters for Peter, and all of the boy’s life paperwork on the coffee table. He picks one of the posters up and traces the picture gently, glancing up at May. She has a forlorn look in her eyes, stuck in a world far away where the pain of losing Peter is still raw, and unsoothed by the relief of seeing him again, a world that Tony has never known and never wants to. A  _grief_ that Tony has never known, and never wants to.

“So… most missing children don’t show up a few months later with _Tony Stark_. What-“ She glances back up at the sound of the cups clinking together from the kitchen area, Peter smiling reassuringly back at her. Tony can see the love in her eyes, her entire expression brightened by her smile as she watches the teenager.

“What happened?” Tony finishes. May nods, still idly watching Peter. She has a faint smile on her face that Tony hates to break from her.

“There was… a report, of a new mutant. Someone with powers.”  
May’s gaze flickers back to him. She takes in a deep breath.  
“He has powers?”  
“We… think so.” Tony nods sadly. “We don’t know why, or what, or how. If he had them before, or if they just randomly appeared… I don’t know either.”  
“How long has he been with you? _We_?” She questions, angrily now.  
“Only a few days,” Tony raises his hand in surrender, “we found him in Russia. We didn’t know who he was, or _why_ he had been taken, and at first he was a lot less adjusted than he is now.”  
“Taken? Russia?!” May looks panicked now, but calms down when Peter walks over calmly, having finished making a few cups of what looked like black tea with milk. He shrugged idly as they thanked him.  
“Hey, I have super-hearing, remember?” He nods at Tony, an indescribable emotion plain on his face.  
“What do you mean, sweetheart?” May asks, cradling the hot cup of tea in her hands and staring into it. Peter sits down on the chair next to them, curling up in the largeness of it.  
“I’ll hear anything you say. Even if I’m in… in my room, or, anywhere in this building, I could probably hear you even if I was outside.” Peter stares down into his own mug of tea, face blank and sad.

“Oh. Okay, sweetheart. That’s okay.” May soothes.

“I-it’s not, though, is it? It’s not okay. It’s not going to be okay because I don’t remember anything- I don’t even- I just have pieces and scraps of memory, like piece of paper that got too wet, and it’s falling apart in my hands and I can’t put it together, I don’t-“ Tony sees him spiralling again, but Aunt May seems to know what to do. She sets down her cup of tea and moves over, crouching down and taking Peter’s mug, placing it next to hers on the table.  
“Do you remember how we used to calm you down from panic attacks like this?”  
Peter shakes his head. Tony sees his hands, clenching down on the fabric of the sweatpants he’s wearing and his top teeth biting down on his bottom lip, fighting against tears. He moves one of his hands to his throat, fingers pulling at the skin there like he's choking as he holds back a sob.

“What are five things you can see in here?”  
Peter looks up at her, worried. Tony just watches, well aware of how this works, having had Rhodey use it on him many times.  
“There’s… there’s uhm, the tea I made.”  
“Good, good,” May soothes. She’s sat on the armchair of the seat, coaxing Peter into a hug and stroking back his curls. Tony understands why Peter wanted the hug now, he seems so tactile.  
“Then there’s … ah, I don’t-“ He glances around from his tightly wound ball, like a spring ready to burst open. May strokes his head again, as though Tony is nothing more than a fly on the wall and her world is just her and Peter, Peter curled up in her grasp like a child. It pulls at an odd, paternal feeling in Tony's chest. He's not sure if he likes it.   
“It doesn’t have to be anything big. There are no wrong answers.”  
“There’s you, Aunt May.” She hugs him a little bit closer. “There’s Mister Stark. That’s three…” Peter glances around again.  
“Two more things, sweetheart.”  
“There’s… there’s a… there’s a photo of someone on the TV stand,” He narrows his eyes. “I know him, don’t I?”  
“You do, sweetheart. You know him. But don’t think about that right now.” Her voice is soft, and laced with sadness. It's little more than a whisper, a road that she won't lead him down, not now. When Tony looks over at the picture he sees a smiling man, hair flecked with grey, and May in his arms. They look in love.   
“Why not?” Peter asks, curious, “who is he?”  
“A… family friend. I’ll tell you later. One more thing.”  
“The TV stand?” He says, curiously. When May lifts her hand to him, he flinches harshly against the sofa and it's a startling reminder as to how he was only a few days earlier, and a bitter realisation that whilst Tony can walk away from this with ease, Peter will see every raised hand as a fist, and every grim smile as a promise of punishment. But Tony can walk away and pat himself on the back for reuniting a family and try to forget Peter's saucer-wide eyes, hollow with fear, in that snowstorm. It's the way those eyes look towards him, silently begging reprieve, that brings him back to the present.

“I didn’t- I’m sorry, you said there were no wrong answers, I thought-“

May lowers her hand, and without speaking pulls Peter against her in a tight hug, his head against her stomach as she rubs his back and shoulders through the white shirt he’s wearing, like she's rubbing dirt from his skin, and that's all that needs to be done.  
“My brave little boy,” She says, sighing heavily as if it could erase the fatigue from her frame. “There are no wrong answers.”  
Peter doesn’t respond. He shudders out a breath. The pair of them stay locked together.  
“What are four things you can touch, now?” She asks, and the cycle starts anew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The anxiety/panic attack calm down method here is called the 54321 method.  
> Should you require it, it goes as follows:  
> Name 5 things you can see,  
> Name 4 things you can feel,  
> Name 3 things you can hear,  
> Name 2 things you can smell,  
> and then name one thing you can taste.


	9. Two Birds, One Orphan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "A friend of mine, and not the friend of fortune,  
> Upon the desert slope is so impeded  
> Upon his way, that he has turned through terror,"  
> \- Inferno: Canto II, Dante Alighieri

“This is weird,” Peter complained halfheartedly, staring down at the bunkbed in front of him. Aunt May was a few steps behind him, looking slightly emotional as she took in the bedroom, some surfaces covered in a thin layer of dust. A snarky, but soft-worded reply comes back from her as she leans over to wipe a bit of dust from the side table.  
“Well, you didn’t have a problem getting into your old pyjamas, or finding the shower, so I’m sure you know how to use a bed.”  
Peter laughs dryly at her. Just the sight of his room had reminded him of parts of his life- his school jumper, draped over the end of the bed, or the half-finished Lego kit on his carpeted floor. Peter thinks that if he doesn't laugh, he might cry.

The bed in front of him doesn’t feel like his own, but he climbs into it anyways. On instinct he leans over to click the side lamp on and he smiles to himself. What his mind struggles to remember, his body welcomes back the muscle memory of his old life, much preferred to the rigorous and terrifying HYDRA routine he'd never adjusted to- freezing cells, brutal experiments and  _total_ isolation. Suffice to say, a bed topped with blankets in a warm room full of artefacts of his old life, is much better.   
May sits down on the edge of the bed and strokes his hair as he falls asleep. It doesn't take Peter long, the adrenaline and worry of the day knocking him out only a few minutes after he got into bed. She’s too scared to let him go, to walk away from him even after he’s dreaming, so she clicks off the lamp light, pulls up the blankets around his shoulders, and locks the bedroom windows before she even considers walking away from his sleeping form.  
On her way out, she leaves the door slightly ajar, light from the kitchen and living area soaking into Peter's bedroom through the crack.  
“It’s how he liked it, when we first adopted him. He was scared of the dark.”

  
Tony glances up at her from where he’s sat back down on the couch. He feels admittedly useless.  
“You adopted him?” He asks.  
“His parents died in a plane crash. Mary and Richard, they… used to work on his anxiety too. They kept little books on what worked, what didn’t…” She sighs sadly and looks up at Tony.  
“They’d be disappointed in me. I almost lost the last Parker that there is here anymore. He might not be my biological son but… “  
“It’s like he’s in your heart already?”  
“And everything you do, suddenly it’s if you do it for his benefit, then it’s fine.”  
The two adults in the room laughed, and May joined Tony on the couch, curling her legs up just like Peter did. She pushes her glasses back up on her nose, and tucks her hair behind her ear, her soft brown eyes scanning Tony up and down.

“I don’t know how much the kid remembers,” Tony laments. Suddenly he’s nervous, like he would have been before a big press event or a conference, as though the woman in front of him has more anger and disapproval than all the Avengers combined. May gives him the look of a reproachful teacher before softening again. Neither of them have the energy to be wary. 

“I was worried about him, you know? Before he disappeared- he dropped all of his clubs at school. Since Ben died," Tony figures that must be the man in the picture only a few feet away from him, "He's been sneaking out. I used to sneak out too. I figured he was going to Ned’s house, they’ve always been best friends, and then he disappeared and- Christ. I didn’t think...”  
“Nobody would’ve guessed. But these new powers they’re… with all this power, he needs to be responsible. You know I’ll be here if you need any help?” Tony takes a long glance around the apartment. He knows the Tower is safer, but a group of Avengers and one Pepper are not enough to raise a child, and he knows, as much as it pains him, that Peter would be better with May.  “And I can have security installed. Not human security of course, but machines. My suits can be triggered if someone breaks into your house, or your building, I can have alerts set up too, Bruce has a diet plan ready and set to go…”

May bites her thumbnail, chewing as she thinks.  
“This is going to be hard.” She comments.

“Understatement of the year,” Tony glances up at the door. He could’ve sworn he heard Peter moving in his room, but the door hasn’t shifted and when he strains his ears, he hears nothing else. Maybe he's just paranoid.  
“I can help out with the finances. His diet plan looks like Steve’s, and there’s no way any normal citizen could afford that. Seriously, he almost eats me out of house and home.”  
The woman across from him looks like he’s lifted a weight from her shoulders, even if it’s only minuscule. Their smiles are both strained, as if the conversation between them is awkward, and wrong, and unnatural. Tony figures in a way it is, completely out of place for either of them to be talking like this. A billionaire talking to a random woman from Queens, whose adopted son happened to be kidnapped by HYDRA and experimented on like a lab rat- there’s very few people who could ever think of that as normal.

Tony has to laugh at himself when he remembers that nothing in his life is ever normal.

“May? Ms Parker? Miss Parker? Dr Parker? _Madame_ Parker?” May looks un-amused, “I have to say- look, I’m… kind of attached to the kid. So if you wouldn’t mind, I wouldn’t mind mentoring him. The Avengers and I, we can make sure he doesn’t fall into the wrong hands yeah but we can… give him healthy outlets too. Let him learn to control his powers so if he ever needs to use them, he knows how to… however he wants to.”

 

She opens her mouth to reply, and then someone knocks at the door. It’s not a harsh knock or a clear one, just two raps.

Tony moves his hand to the tiny box in his back pocket. An entire suit, folded up into one small black box. He takes it out, rolling it between his fingers and waiting, as Aunt May steps towards the door.

She can feel the tension in the air and glances back at Tony, then walks back to the kitchen and takes a small knife from the counter. He’s amazed at her on the spot thinking, and wonders where a woman like her learnt how to hold a knife like that, but resumes focusing on her quiet, full footed footsteps across the wooden floor, edging slowly towards the door. The knocks return, three this time, more rapid and heavy-handed. Urgent.

Tony tightens his grip on the box and steps forwards. His footstep lands heavily on the wood and May glances back sharply before leaning forwards towards the door, keeping herself on the side that will have the protection of the wood in front of her when it swings open, but still lets her see whoever the intruder is. Tony can’t see past her slim frame now, and has half a mind to signal her to move further into the door, but it’s too late.  
She places her hand over the knob and holds it loosely, turning it slowly, and pulling the door open quickly, raising up the knife to the level of her throat, and Tony stepping forwards, moving the box up to his arc reactor to activate it, when-

“Ned?!”


	10. Mirror Image

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "That she might change at times the empty treasures  
> From race to race, from one blood to another,  
> Beyond resistance of all human wisdom."
> 
> \- Inferno: Canto VII, Dante Alighieri

“May, Peter texted me and- why do you have a knife?”  
The new teenager- Tony was going to lose track if another one showed up- glanced down at the weapon in May’s hands, looking both unafraid and inconvenienced.  
“Oh, Ned, honey, I-“ May put the knife down on the floor and hugged him against her, before the boy looked towards the other figure in the room. Tony slowly replaced the nanosuit cube into his pocket and gave the boy an awkward wave.  
“Is that- you- Tony Stark- I- sir-“ Ned’s jaw hung open.

The door across from the three figures opened, Peter deadpanning at the scene in front of him from the darkness of his room.

“You kinda were supposed to _sneak_ in, Ned. But this could work.”  
“Peter!”  
Ned practically leapt past May and Tony to reach his friend. The joy and relief on his face were so evident that they completely overpowered any star-shock he had from seeing one of his own personal heroes.  
Tony felt a smile crack out when he saw how tightly Ned was squeezing Peter, the taller teenager looking only slightly rumpled at the embrace. The young mutant cautiously raised one hand to hug Ned’s back, and immediately followed it up by wrapping his arms around the other like he’d forgotten how nice a good hug was. Tony thinks about how much human contact this kid has had recently and feels a small pang of guilt. Touch deprivation is something he’d oddly familiar with from his younger years, pushing everyone away like he was a ticking time bomb, and he knows the way it aches like a hollowness under your skin. But the two teenagers don't look like an old friend comforting 

 “Peter, why did you call Ned over? It’s … practically night time. It _is_ night time.”  
The two teenagers parted, glancing at May, and then back at each-other.  
“We were going to… sneak… out…”  
May deadpans.  
“Just… go to Delmars and then down to the park?”  
“At this time of night? Peter Benjamin Parker you are going to be the death of me. You can do that tomorrow- Ned, do you want to stay over honey?”  
“Yes Ms Parker,” Ned fumbled, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment at being called out. He shifted a little closer to Peter and glanced up at him again, smiling.  
“C’mon, Pete, I got Lego.” The two teenagers disappeared into the bedroom, starting to talk between themselves before the door even closed.

 

“Of course you can.” May says, walking back to the kitchen and rubbing at a spot of dirt on her counter.  
“I can what?” Tony asks, feeling lost on his feet.

“Help out. Help him adjust. Do whatever you need I… I can’t do this alone all the time. He needs a father figure, someone who can just… do all those stereotypes with him. You can’t ever be Ben. But you can be Tony. I won’t let you do this if you’re going to back out though, or give up, or abandon him. Peter is so, so loving. I don’t want anyone to take that from him.”

There’s a hollow emptiness in Tony’s chest as he thinks.  
He knows all too well how badly a father can raise a child, knows the ache of a loveless childhood. He knows that Peter’s relationships with May and Ned must be important to him- maybe even all he has. But he can’t stop thinking about making a suit for the kid, maybe one like he designed for the Spiderboy. They might even be friends.

This living room is warm, and neat aside from the scattered papers. The kitchen is bright, May’s figure illuminated from behind with the soft warm glow of the above-oven lamp, her hands on her hips. Peter is so much like her, from what he knows. Strong, with a set jaw, and a kind face only marred with smile lines. They both look so young, but so wise. He can see the signs of love around the house, the picture frames on every surface and the old drawings on the fridge. There are report cards stuck there too with handmade clay magnets, certificates, attendance records, calendars.  
So much love crammed into pressed paper and ink.

He can hear the chattering of the two teenagers in the room over, comfortable and low, in dispersed with laughter and small silences.  
It took him a while to notice how much he’d relaxed in this small apartment. So different from the sharp edges and monochromatic colours of the Tower. His shoulders are loose and he feels like he should take his jacket off. The door he’s been habitually glancing at opens and Peter walks out to get a blanket from the couch, music playing out from his room. He gives the two adults a funny look, and fixes his gaze on Tony, piercing and direct.

 _Oh,_ Tony thinks. _Super-hearing_.  
There’s a silence that lingers. Comfortably, Peter slinks back into his room like a cat who got the cream, curious and well-adapted to his new powers. It’s almost suspicious how fast he’s learnt to use them. Maybe he should make the kid some noise-cancelling headphones.

“I can be Tony. Tony is good.”  
May’s face erupts in a smile. He reaches out to her, hand offered for a simple shake. She takes it, and pulls him into a hug.

“This will be hard, won’t it?”  
“Oh, absolutely. It’s going to be terrible. You know when most people _turn_ mutant, they get sick for like a week, and then throw up this gross stuff that’s all the dead cells that have been replaced?”  
“Wait, what?” May looks deeply trouble, stepping back and holding onto his shoulders.  
“It’s pretty well documented. HYDRA- terrible group- did this to loads of people ages ago, wrote down all the side effects. They get sick-“  
“For a week? Like… like a coma? Being all feverish and hot and cold flashes?”  
“Yes…” Tony drawls, glancing her up and down, “How did you know that?”  
“Peter was- when- he was fifteen, he got sick after a school trip… just like that.”  
“Are you saying that he’s… been a mutant for longer than this?”  
“That’s all I can think- I mean, I just thought it was something he picked up. I kept him hydrated and cool and he was fine after the week.”  
“Did anything else happen? Like… growing a tail or something?”  
The joke falls flat.”  
“That’s when he started sneaking out. I don’t know… he was fifteen, I thought he was responsible, he was just growing up. I didn’t connect it.”  
“I wouldn’t have either. Well. That explains how fast he adapted.”  
“Still okay with all this?”  
“No backing out now, no ma’am.”

They talk for a few more minutes, making plans, arrangements, appointments for times to meet up with Bruce to discuss his powers, metabolism, training. Tony can’t stop thinking about the Spiderboy as he does it. Maybe they’re the same age, maybe a little older. He looked bigger than Peter on those videos, more muscled and strong. He wonders if the Spiderboy has someone like May to take care of him, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, I have mock exams to study for.


	11. Safe and Sound

“Alexa, are you alone?”

The TV’s loud audio echoed through the empty apartment. Peter leaned closer into his best friend’s shoulder as the eleventh episode of the second season of Mr Robot drew past it’s half way mark, Ned’s sleeping form not moving. Peter had let the show roll because he wouldn’t mind rewatching it later when Ned complained about the wasted time, and because he wasn’t really paying attention anyways.

There was something bigger on his mind.  
School.  
Peter Benjamin Parker, recently reunited with his loving Aunt and best friend, was scared, downright _terrified_ of the implications of the coming Monday.

Only one Sunday lay between him and then, that one blessed day full of nervous anticipation and genuine terror. He didn’t remember anything from school- Ned had quizzed him and proved that, although his brain remembered every equation, every formula, even his class schedule and the names of his classmates, he just couldn’t remember… school. Apparently, he was bullied by someone called Flash- the name itself made Peter squirm uncomfortably, so he believed Ned instinctively on that, and then Ned had asked him something weird.

“You don’t remember like, any of your… extra-curricular activities, do you?”  
“Uhh, you said I do decathlon. Isn’t that it?”  
“But you used to do Band and stuff. Then you quit, cus of, y’know…”  
Peter’s mind completely blanks. Ned has some expectancy in his eyes, the same that the researchers at the Russian labs used to have whenever they jammed AR-02- no, _Peter_ \- full of something nasty. It makes anxiety crawl into Peter’s rib-cage and settle there like a bird or a snake, or a… spider. He shivers. Spiders are gross.  
“Cus of… Decathlon?” He guesses.

A brief disappointment crosses over Ned’s face. Peter shied away from him then, anticipating being struck but Ned had already moved away, face creased with smile lines as he opened his palms in a symbol of “ _whatever_ ”.  
“You’ll remember soon, I bet. Kinda hard not to. Although like, you might not want to tell me when you remember, ‘cus you didn’t tell me about it in the first place. I just figured it out because you kept coming into school tired and then after this, like, I figured out I was super right because of what they said about you being-”  
Ned must notice the lost look in Peter’s eyes.  
“It’s alright. You’ll remember soon.”

The memory _had_ stirred something in his head. Extracurricular activities sounded like a stupid way to hide a secret between them- like Ned knew something he didn’t. Well, Ned knew who Peter Parker was. Peter only knew who AR-02 was.  
The hairs on his arm raised and he shivered, rising up to his haunches and rocking on the balls of his feet, one hand strung out behind him to cover Ned, who slept happily. Something was wrong.  
Peter turned around and stared at the door behind him, eyes narrowed. It felt almost as if someone was going to-  
The door opened, and Aunt May walked in quietly, obviously trying not to make a sound. She locked eyes with Peter and put her hand to her chest in shock, before breaking into a smile.  
“Pete, sweetheart, you’ve got the eyes of a wolf on you there. Do you want to sleep in here with Ned tonight? If we wake him up now, you know he’ll take an hour to get to sleep again.”  
There was a short silence before Peter remembered he was allowed to speak.

“Uhh. Here is good. I’ll move out the couch and he can sleep on the pullout, I’ll sleep in the armchair.” May blinked at him, “…Is that …okay?”  
“Sure, sweetheart. You just never usually sit in the- it’s nothing. I’ll fetch a few blankets for you both.”

 

Miles away, Tony Stark was busy cursing his technology and downing another cup of bitter coffee, trying to understand why he couldn’t find a _single_ video of Spiderman anywhere. Not a peep out of that hero, and Tony had been planning to take him to Germany!

“Urgh, FRIDAY, where’d the kid go? This is ridiculous! I have a perfectly nice suit here all for him, and now I’m halfway through this metal one and he just up and disappears! The audacity of some vigilantes…”  
“Peter Parker is residing at his home residence tonight. He lives in apartment 7A-“  
“No, I know that. I mean the _spider_ kid, where is he? I mean-“  
FRIDAY whirs to answer, but he shakes his head and she doesn’t get past the first word as Tony stands up. Opening a file on his desktop he has many screengrabs of Spiderman’s videos.

“Like, see here. There’s no way this video is edited because everything is just _too_ perfect. From the weight distribution on those web things to the way he swings, the momentum- urgh, it’s killing me!”  
“Boss, I must tell you that I-“  
“All I wanna do is swoop down, give this kid this suit so he stops running around in some flimsy pyjamas and, I don’t know, slap him on the wrist? What do mentors do? Do you think he and Peter would get along? Do you think Peter would like him?”  
“Boss, I do not think that would be a problem-“  
“What? FRIDAY, what’s up? Is Peter okay? Is the Spiderkid okay? What’s wrong, give me numbers, give me information, give me anything-“  
“As I said, Peter Parker is residing at his home residence tonight.”  
“And the Spiderkid?”  
“Peter Parker is residing at his home residence tonight. He is safe.”  
Tony rolled his eyes at the voice from the ceiling and tapped his screwdriver against his coffee mug.

“You need a re-calibration test old girl, you already told me that. Peter Parker is safe and well, yeah yeah, how’s my Spiderboy? Little underoos?”  
“I have answered your question. Peter Parker is residing at his home residence tonight.”  
The mechanic frowns.  
“FRI, seriously. You’re glitching.”  
“I can reassure you, I am functioning perfectly. You have asked me where the ‘Spider-man’ is, and I have informed you that he is safe at his home residence.”  
“But you-“  
“Comparisons between Peter Parker’s physique before his kidnapping, and his mutant abilities known to record currently, he matches almost perfectly with Spider-Man. When you were in May Parker’s apartment, you activated your gauntlet partway, releasing an emergency tracking drone. Scanning the apartment, I found many traces of residual “web fluid”, an elastic form that is linked to both here and many areas where Spider-Man has visited. With the genetics taken from the lab, I was able to synthesise a body model for Peter, and I am 99% percent sure that he and Spider-Man are a genetic match. They are the same person.”


	12. Emperor's New Clothes

“Oh. Oh wow. Oh.”

Tony sat back in his chair and looked down at the suit in his hands. He looked up at the body model on the screen in front of him.   
“You appear to be shocked.” FRIDAY helpfully commented from above. Tony ran a hand through his hair, and dragged it down his face, letting it rest on his chin as he contemplated the consequences of the news.

“No shit, Sherlock.” He remarked.  
“My registered name is FRIDAY, Mister Stark. Would you like me to adjust my name register to include ‘Sherl-“  
Tony raised a pair of pliers and waved them mock-threateningly.  
“Sass me one more time young lady and I’ll reprogram you.”  
“Noted.”  
Tony dropped the suit, fabric limp on his lap and blinked down at the metallic wiring. Was there even a point into making a Spider-man suit if Spider-man… didn’t _know_ he was Spider-man? How could he explain to the Avengers that the random HYDRA mutant he’d picked up happened to be their friendly crime-fighting arachnid?

“It sure does explain him being a mutant. But why would HYDRA want Spider-man? That doesn’t make sense.”  
“Spider-man is a trusted figure in the NYC community. Although he faces conflict from the police department, and some journalist sites, the majority public opinion does like his effort to reduce petty crime. He has… fan sites.”  
Tony flinches when he hears Bruce from behind him, having been so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn’t heard the doors opening or the man walk up to him. He must be a little more sleep deprived than he thought.  
“Oh yeah? And how do you feel about our boy in blue?”  
“I’m uh, undecided. It’s understandable. HYDRA got lucky with Spider-man.”  
Tony passes his friend a worried frown.  
“No one’s ‘lucky’ to end up with HYDRA.”  
“I mean… Peter Parker isn’t-“ Bruce starts, but Tony interrupts.  
“Hold up. _You_ knew this kid’s identity before me?”  
To his credit, Bruce looks slightly embarrassed, scratching the nape of his neck as he answers.  
“Ah, well, FRIDAY did use results from my testing. I was curious about that web fluid- kid’s a genius.”  
“Unbelievable,” Tony rolls his eyes dramatically, “Absolutely ridiculous. What am I, decoration? You need to tell me these things! I am Iron man!”  
“And the world knows it, Tony. But the point is, HYDRA got lucky with Peter. He’s a loner. You heard what FRIDAY found out, I’ll assume- kid’s parents are gone, all he has is his Aunt. At the end if he goes missing, he’ll just join the list of disappeared kids, especially if the world is more focused on Spider-man suddenly turning evil and proclaiming his love for HYDRA.”

A deep silence falls over the room. In the artificial light, Tony can’t do anything but face the truth of the matter- that Peter was in danger, and still is in danger. And if HYDRA manages to kidnap Peter, the residents of NYC will be in danger if their beloved Spider-man starts attacking them.   
“And the Avengers will be in danger.” Bruce adds sombrely. Tony hadn’t even realised he’d been speaking aloud.  
“That’s… sobering.”  
“A mutant going crazy and killing people? That’s exactly what the people who are against us want, a reason to fear the Avengers. A reason to fear… us. Peter’s probably the most important person in our lives right now.”  
“Poor, poor kid. He doesn’t even know who he is.”  
“We could focus on what he could become.” Bruce rests a hand on Tony’s shoulder, a comforting gesture from friend to friend.  
“Let’s see. So you’re saying that Peter being out of the limelight, that’s endangering him?”  
“Exactly. He fades from the public view like any over face on the street.”  
“Then to combat that, we have to make him… noticeable. Not famous, but put his face in people’s minds. What’s the easiest way to do that?”  
Both men go quiet as they think, when FRIDAY pipes up, her tone curious and cautious.  
“A brief scan of Mr Parker’s social media shows that he expressed a strong interest in applying for a Stark Internship when he came of age. It would not be unreasonable then, to say that you scouted him based on his academic skills and aptitude in science. This would give you a reason to protect him, whilst also not alerting to anything suspicious in either of his personas- Spider-man working alongside Iron Man makes sense, and Peter Parker working at Stark Industries makes sense.”  
“Just… stagger the meeting times, maybe fake some interactions, make sure we don’t overlap…” Bruce theorises. He looks at Tony hopefully.  
“Fri, I love you, I’d die for you, I’d kill for you, you’re the only woman for me, and Bruce, you’re the best man at my wedding. Good work team.”

Tony stood up from his seat, suddenly extremely overjoyed. He took the fabric Spider-man suit, already finished and ready, and puts it in a brown sandwich bag, inconspicuous and plain, before scrawling a note on a post-it and sticking it on. Leading a confused but tired and quiet Bruce out, he deposits it on the table next to the doors as they pass through.  
“Aren’t you going to give it to him?” The doctor asks, eyes trailing back to look at the small package before the lights in the lab slowly dim down into darkness.  
“I’ll give it to him… when he’s ready. It can’t hurt to let him just be Peter for a bit? And plus, he probably doesn’t even have that old suit anymore- you know the hoodie and the goggles? Either he’s hidden it or HYDRA took it from him- no matter what, it’s super unlikely he’ll just stumble upon it again.”  
“Not being reckless? That’s unlike you.”  
Tony laughed.  
“What can I say? Fatherhood’s a good look on me.”

 

 

“Peter, are you alright?” Ned called quietly from the living room, the only indicator of how late it was being the bright glow of his phone screen telling him that it was just barely past two-am, and the darkness from the entire flat confirmed it.   
A room away, Peter swallowed heavily before replying.  
“Uh, yeah, yeah, I’m fine, I’m just grabbing a sweater,” He stared down at the fabric in his hands, “It’s freezing tonight.”  
Ned chuckled softly.   
“You always hate the cold! But seriously dude, come back. We have school later!”  
Peter crumpled up the red and blue fabric in his hands before pushing it down to the bottom of his wardrobe and grabbing the first sweater on top, throwing it over himself in a weak attempt to warm himself up, even if his cold was now forgotten by the dread in his heart.  
“It’s no wonder…” He mumbles to himself; eyes still focused on the hint of the fabric that he could see poking through the rest of his clothes.  
Ned doesn’t reply.  
“Spiders… can’t thermoregulate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there :)  
> Sorry for the really really slow updates (on all my fics!), I've been away for exam season and it was a lot busier than I expected.  
> I spent the last day going through the recent chapters on this fic and editing out some spelling errors and took the opportunity to use this chapter to give some more world building as to why everyone is making the decisions they are.   
> Thank you for being so patient with me, and thank you for reading, reviewing, and kudos-ing.   
> There is a lot more still to come!


End file.
